#ser jorah mormont imagines

[mostfandomimagines]

Imagine: Jorah finding you unharmed after a battle

[shadeysprings]

Wilting Blossom

—Jorah Mormont x F!Reader

Summary: Trapped in the dungeons, the Lord Commander comes to make a bargain.

Warnings: noncon/dubcon, age gap, size kink, vaginal fingering, coercion & entrapment. There may be more but thread carefully as this is a dark fic.

A/N: Written for @the-slumberparty's Week Four Challenge: Across the Universe. I started this event with Jorah and I feel it was only right to end it with him. GOT is one of the universes I love to dabble in and Jorah, if you know me, is the one that holds my heart.

Your feedback and reblogs are highly appreciated. Support content creators! And of course, I hope you guys enjoy! ❤️

With your hand outstretched, you try to catch the rays of the sun as it trickles through the small window of your cell. You bask in what little warmth it offers, the heat kissing your skin and slowly staving off the cold emitted by the stone walls that surround you. 

But just as quickly, you pull your hand back and push yourself against the wall, hugging your knees to your chest and shrouding yourself once more in the darkness when you hear the dungeon doors open. Heavy footsteps echo through the narrow hall, guards shouting and banging against the bars that confine you and your fellow prisoners, who in turn, retaliate by shouting curses in their wake. 

The tension in the air then thickens when you sense the band stop by your cell, their presence imposing and looming. 

“Unlock it.”

You stiffen and huddle closer to the wall when you catch the familiar timbre of Lord Commander Mormont amidst the low rabble of the dungeon. The sound of keys jingling and the lock going undone, your chest constricting in fear as the hinges of what keeps you separated from them creak as it swings open.

He’s the reason you were thrown into this purgatory. His profession of mercy when he stands beside the Targaryen Queen proves false when he gave no chance to hear your apologies. Though, deep down, you know you’re just as much to blame as he is. 

“Wait outside.” He instructs one of his men. “We are not to be disturbed. Am I understood?”

“Yes, Lord Commander.” Another familiar voice responds, Ser Jaime Lannister’s, but you hear nothing more than retreating steps and the pounding of your heart as you’re left alone with the leader of the queensguard.

His footfalls are slow and measured, akin to a predator circling its prey. You hide your face from him, not wanting to see the demon clothed in fine gold. 

“Don’t hide from me.” A command and you contemplate doing as you’re bid but he makes his impatience known when he nudges you with his boot. You swallow thickly as you tilt your chin up, taking in his tall stature as he towers over you, his golden armor glinting against the light of the sun and his sapphire eyes burning with devious desire as he stares down at you. 

A silent gasp then leaves your lips when he crouches at your level,  “How was your stay here, thief?” He asks, a smirk forming on his lips and you divert your eyes away. “Cold isn’t it? You’d rather be out in the sun?” His tone makes your blood start boiling, anger burning in your chest as he taunts you with freedom.

But your chest quickens when he reaches behind him, your arms instinctively shielding yourself as you expect him to pull out a dagger and give you your sentence right there on the muddy floors of the cell. Yet, the blow doesn’t come, instead, you hear him chuckling, mirth present in his voice and you peek through your arms to see him holding out a loaf than a weapon. 

“Take it,” he urges. “I know you’re hungry.” You stare at the offered food, stomach growling at the sight. “This will taste better than the slop they feed you lot down here.” His voice is calm yet calculating all the same, but all at once soothing, if you’re to be honest with yourself. 

Hesitation fills you, eyes shifting from the loaf and then at him. For you know there are more creative ways to kill a peasant than to throw them under the blade. 

“It’s not poisoned if that’s what you’re thinking.” The Lord Commander chuckles and rips a piece of the bread before tossing it in his mouth.

As soon as he finishes, parting his lips to expose the empty cavern, you snatch the fare from his grasp and bite into it with greed, the spongy texture tickling your mouth and settling your hunger, humming a moan at the taste. 

Ser Jorah laughs once more, his eyes light with amusement as he watches you feast. “There’s more where that came from,” He coos, and you watch him closely when he shifts to near you, keeping the bread to your lips in fear of him taking it away. “Maybe some meat and cheese, lemon cakes too, if you wish. Wouldn’t you want that?” You feel your mouth water as he lists down the items, your stomach rumbling once more. 

“I can give you so much more, petal,” He continues, your body going rigid as dread crawls up your spine when his gloved hand reaches over to caress your arm, the blue pools in his turning darker and you hear his breathing grow heavier. “A warm bed, a full belly, a better life.” The knight breathes, “And you need only give me what I want in return.”

“And what is that?” Your voice comes out in an instant, startling both of you, the Lord Commander’s grin widening at your question. 

“You.”

Your brow furrows and the anger from before returns in a burst of flames, throwing the half-eaten loaf at his face and quickly pushing yourself from the ground and making your way out of your cell.

But such an attempt of escape is fruitless; Ser Jorah easily recovers from your pitiful attack and grabs you by the ankle, making you fall to the ground and cry in pain and soon in fear when he crawls over you, gasping when the length of his arm pins your shoulders to the muddy ground.

“Ah, ah,” He tuts and laughs as you struggle against his hold, nails scraping on the cobblestone floor as you try to get away from him, but you choke when his arm slips to the back of your neck, weeping uncontrollably and begging for his mercy upon feeling his other hand slip underneath your skirt. “Disobedient girls don’t get that privilege,” Hot breath fans over your cheek when he leans closer, crushing you with the weight of his armor. “They are left to rot in cells while men come and go as they please, to rape them, torture them even.”

“Ser—” You cry, “Please—”

“And I would hate to see a pretty flower like you be ruined, watching your petals wilt away.” Your lips tremble when he presses his nose against your hair, disgust blooming at the pit of your stomach when he rolls his hips, feeling the erection in his breeches press against your ass. “But I am a forgiving and generous man, and I can save you from such fate.” He slowly eases off of you and you groan when he flips you to your back, only to pin you down once more with his arm over your chest. 

You lock eyes with him, your mind swimming in the words of the Lord Commander, drowning in them for you know them to be true. How whispers fly across the city of women taken into captivity, treated like whores, and leaving with either a babe in their belly or hanging at the center of King’s Landing.

But should that alone be the drive for you to take his offer? A life of servitude to the knight? A bed warmer? You regale in the thought and realize it makes no difference if one man or several take you against your will because all the same, you’re nothing but a thing to be used, an object to the eyes of the nobles and ones of power, keeping you bound to whichever hell they see fit. 

You’ve heard stories of the Lord Commander, the once Lord of the northernmost island, knighted by King Robert himself at the Siege of Pyke. How he was exiled to the neighboring country for his misdeeds yet found back his honor at the side of the Dragon Queen. 

They said he was a just, merciful, and honorable man, but what you see before you are anything but, for there is no mercy dripping from his tongue nor honor looming in his eyes, only hunger for the flesh—your flesh—and greed for control over the ones who have none.

Still, you are nothing compared to him; a peasant of the city—no power or riches to bargain for your freedom.

“So, what will it be, thief?” He asks, looking up into his sapphires with fear as you decide and give your answer.

That was but a year ago, the dregs of the dungeon are now washed away by the cool waters you’re allowed to indulge in the vast chamber. Your rags, replaced with sheer silk dresses—luxurious as they seem, they give you no sense of decency as they expose everything underneath. But food is no longer scarce, one you treat as a blessing yet such gifts are nothing but a tether to your new prison. 

You sit by the plush chaise, the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks that hold the fortress of the Red Keep filling your ears while you watch the strong winds blow against the sails of the ships that come in and out of the capitol. You can’t help but long to set foot on the sandy beaches once more, to bask in the freedom you once knew before being found by the Lord Commander himself stalking in the royal kitchen.

You may have simply been surviving in the past—fleeting through the narrow walk of Flea Bottom and rummaging through the wastes of the highborn for something to eat—but, at the least, you were free.

The door of the chamber swings open and you immediately stand from your perch, folding your hands at your front as you watch Ser Jorah walk in, his golden armor glowing in the afternoon light and you swallow thickly when he flicks the lock within. 

His eyes meet yours and your spine tingles in fear when you see the hunger within them. He unties the belt holding his sword from his waist and hangs it by the hook at the side of the door before slowly walking over to the chaise, measured hand pulling off his gloves and tossing them on the plush surface. 

“Wine.” He says after dropping himself on the settee and you quickly reach for the jug on the table in front, kneeling as you pour a generous amount into the goblet. 

With careful hands you hold it out to him, giving you a smile before taking the cup from your grasp and holding out his hand to you in return. You take it and follow his lead, standing between his parted legs before settling yourself on his thick thigh when he nudges you to sit. 

He then lifts the cup to his lips, taking long and heavy gulps with some of the red liquid spilling from the sides and clinging to his golden beard. As soon as he finishes, he leans forward to set the goblet on the low table before focusing his attention on you, his arm wrapped firmly around your waist while his other hand rests on your knee, kneading it before caressing the expanse of your thigh. 

“How are you while I was away, little flower?” He asks, “I hope you weren’t too lonely.”

“The view of the sea kept me entertained, Ser.” You murmur, squeaking in surprise when he pulls you flush against him. 

“I bring you good news then.” He drones, shifting you on his lap and you grab his arm when he presses your back against his plated chest, hooking your knees over his and spreading your legs wide when he parts his. “I sail for Dorne in a fortnight and I’m taking you with me.” His voice is low, whispering against your ear and your chest tightens when he bunches the skirt of your dress over your waist, shivering, skin tingling when his hand skims over your inner thigh. 

“A m-most generous o-offer, Ser—” You mumble, your other hand gripping his wrist as you try to push him away, gasping as an aching need bloom at the pit of your abdomen when he finds purchase of your cunt and rolls a finger against your sacred bud. “But p-people will s-see—the queen—” The words die on your lips when he quickens the movement of his hand, your lips parting, mouth hanging open as you try to catch your breath. 

“I care not of whispers,” He growls against the crown of your head, and you gasp sharply when he slips two fingers past the folds of your weeping blossom. “Everyone should know who it is you belong to.”

He clutches your waist tight, keeping you pressed to him as he fucks you desperately with his hand, the walls of your cunt stretching wide at the thickness of his fingers and the soreness from the night before burning within once more along with the fire of your unwanted desire. 

Words of pleas for him to stop linger at your lips but never leave, your legs shaking as your arousal spikes, your cunt slickening further, allowing him to thrust deeper to his knuckles. His arm on your waist moves, but only to frame his fingers around your neck, turning your head for you to face him and capture your lips to pull you into a heated kiss. 

He swallows your moans, devouring every sound you make and your stomach quakes, making you pull away from his lips when you let out a silent scream as pleasure crashes over you, your eyes blowing wide and gasping heavily when you shudder at your release, coating his fingers with your essence. 

Deep chuckles emit from him and you tremble when he slips his digits from your cunt, your walls clenching on nothing and your mind protesting against the longing of your body. You pant heavily against his chest, daring to peek up at him when you hear him produce such lewd sounds and watch him slip his fingers into his lips,  licking them clean. 

“Such a sweet nectar from the sweetest flower.” He drones and you whimper when he gives your lips one last kiss, tasting yourself on his tongue before staggering forward when he pushes you off of him, holding onto the small table to keep yourself from falling to the ground

You hear him shuffle behind you, sounds of clasps being undone, and you startle when he grabs your arm, pulling you to stand before nudging you towards the bedchamber. 

“On the bed, petal.” He instructs, “I’ve given you pleasure, and it’s your turn to return the favor.”

I no longer keep a tag list but if you want to be kept updated on my fics, follow my side blog @springdandelixn-archives and turn on notifications.

Also, I just want to thank @darkficsyouneveraskedfor and @navybrat817 for hosting this event. It was truly such a joy to write with the themes you've set and I've met such amazing and talented people along the way.

[jossilyn-embereth]

Hello! If requests are open, may I please request some headcanons on what being married to Ser Jorah Mormont would be like?

Being Married to Jorah Mormont Would Inclcule

Having met him in Westeros long before his original marriage. The two of you were quite taken with one another, but you were already promised.

Not seeing one another again until you ended up at his wedding. Where he learns your marriage was called off.

Finding out years later what happened with Jorah and his family, and the crimes he committed, wishing you knew where he had gone, and accepting that you may never see him again.

Being promised to another man, but you decide to leave instead of be married off, so you run away and find a ship to take you to Essos, where you know you’ll never be found.

Making a good living on your own, seeing as the small fortune you had brought with you was able to support you while you got your bearings. You start your own business and set of shop in Mareen.

Eventually Daenerys makes her way there and frees the city. You are called upon for your services and are escorted to the castle.

There you see Jorah in the throne room, at the right hand of the Queen. As soon as your business is done he comes to see you. You catch up and walk around the city for hours.

You admit that you’ve missed him, and that the stories you hear about him have changed your opinion of him somewhat. He agrees that he did something horrible, and explains to you why he follows his new Queen, and the ways he is trying to be better.

In the coming weeks he comes to visit you constantly. You fall for him all over again, and can’t help but be slightly jealous of his protectiveness and loyalty to his Queen.

Confessing feelings for one another after a long night of talking by the water.

Becoming close with the rest of his new friends, especially Dani, who was ecstatic to find out Jorah had a significant other.

You asking for his hand in marriage, and when he seems surprised you make a joke that neither one of you are good at being single at the same time, so you should take the chance while you have it.

Having a small wedding with just your friends (seeing as neither of you have any family)

Moving to the palace to spend more time with him.

Romantic nights

Missing him during the fay when you both have work.

Coming to the agreement that children should be off the table for the time being, seeing as Jorah would soon be off to war at Daenerys side

Being completely heartbroken when Jorah’s treachery is revealed, wondering now if any of what he said about being better was true.

Letting him leave Mareen alone, and going to Daenerys for comfort, knowing she would understand your heartbreak.

Staying with her all night, comforting one another.

Nearly breaking when Jorah returns and reveals he has contacted Greyscale

Learning from Tyrion that he talked about you non-stop on the journey. Of how much he loved and missed you, and how he would get better so that he may return to you

Joining Daenerys for the journey to Westeros, with the intention of seeing your family’s support for her claim

Feeling both overjoyed and conflicted when Jorah arrives on Dragonstone, because although the man you love is alive and well and back in your arms, he still betrayed you and your Queen.

Eventually being convinced by Daenerys to give him another chance, after she tells you she has all but forgotten his past misdeeds. You take her words as permission to no longer care about his mistake.

Going to him that night and saying nothing, just holding him in your arms until the sun rises.

Telling one another all that had transpired while you had been apart

Him expressing a desire for a family once the war is over. You being happy to hear it, and agreeing wholeheartedly

Learning just before the journey to Winterfell that you are pregnant.

Telling Jorah, feeling nervous because it was still a bit soon to have the baby. The war might not be finished by the time you must leave his side, but he is only full of joy, and so you try not to worry

Being sent away from Winterfell for the battle against the dead, because he refuses to put you and your child at risk

Knowing from the moment you lay eyes on Daenerys that the father of your child is dead, and that the son or daughter you carry is all you will have left of him

[dalekofchaos]

Targaryen restoration au

Imagine if the following happened.

Rhaella lived through childbirth and got to take care of Dany and Viserys

Elia, Aegon and Rhaenys were able to escape to Dorne before the sacking of King's Landing

Arthur Dayne took a pregnant Lyanna to Starfall to find proper care to deliver Jon. But let's say in this au Rhaegar told Arthur the Prince that was promised must be named Daeron III

Jon Connington is called and returns to serve his lord's children

At some point they all link up and begin to plot to restore House Targaryen and take what is rightfully theirs. With Fire & Blood

With Rhaella, Ser Willem, Elia and Arthur around. Viserys never descends into madness and becomes more well adjusted.

Lyanna survived childbirth. Lyanna could not return home. She's too ashamed after her actions led to the deaths of Rickard and Brandon and she knows if she returns with her son, Robert would kill them. Arthur and Lyanna raised Daeron together. One thing led to another and they fell in love.

With outside forces preventing the crown from finding them(Doran, Varys and Illyrio) the Targaryens are never found.

Dany has a happy childhood and while they move every often, she has happy memories with her mother, brother and cousins.

With Rhaella, Doran, Oberyn Arthur and Jon Connington around, Aegon, Rhaenys, Viserys and Daenerys all grow up well versed into politics. Arthur and Oberyn properly turns Aegon, Daeron, Rhaenys, Dany and Viserys into warriors.

Because of Arthur's presence, he would not allow or tolerate Jorah Mormont.

With the vast wealth of Illyrio and Varys influence, an army of sell swords are at their disposal. They have the Golden Company, Windblown, Second Sons, Unsullied, and Storm Crows

With an alliance with Dorne, Aegon is betrothed to Arianne, House Tyrell are known Targaryen loyalists. Daeron is betrothed to Margaery and Daenerys is betrothed to Willas, The Targaryens could reach out to the Greyjoys and promise revenge and plunder. Viserys is betrothed to Asha.

I don't know if the dragons would factor into this au. Maybe there is a ritual, magic via the red priests/priestesses or something they found that could hatch the dragon eggs. If so the dragons are given to Rhaegar's children because prophecy. Aegon's Dragon will be named Visenya(Drogon) Rhaenys' dragon will be named Meria(Rhaegal) and Daeron's will be named Ghost(Viserion)

The War of the Five Kings turns into the War of Kings & Dragons.

Renly runs back to Stannis after he finds out the Tyrell's true allegiances. The brothers put behind their grievances and stand together.

When Cat goes to treat with Renly, she is surprised that Stannis and Renly stand together. They offer Robb a choice, join us. The Lannisters must be dealt with and then deal with the invading Targaryens.

Battle of the Blackwater ends with the Stark-Baratheon alliance victorious. Robb rescues Sansa and Joffrey is executed. Cersei is executed and Tommen is fostered at Casterly Rock by Tyrion. Tywin falls in battle.

Littlefinger is executed and Varys escapes in time to meet with the Targaryens.

The Targaryens arrive. They are met with Dorne, the Ironborn and the Reach.

All out war.

The Targaryens obviously win. But they are smart. They give their enemies the chance to bend the knee.

Then the Targaryens, Starks, and Baratheons unite their forces and marches North. to face their true enemy.

Aegon VI's small council

Hand of the King:Jon Connington

Grand Maester:Marwyn

Master of Whispers:Varys

Master of Laws:Oberyn Martell

Master of Ships:Mace Tyrell

Lord Commander of the Kingsguard:Arthur Dayne

Meanwhile I can see Euron return and hire a Faceless man to kill Willas Tyrell. Euron tries weasels his way into Dany's good graces. There are two ways we can play this. Dany sicks the Kingsguard to kill him or he slowly begins to corrupt her. Blame Viserys and cause Targaryen infighting. And after Viserys is out of the picture. Euron helps Dany take the throne and cement the Targaryens and the Greyjoys alliance through marriage, let the Long Night kill her cousins and they can rule the Iron Throne together and he has the means to bind the dragons to her will.

In the scenario where Dany stays loyal to her family. Euron is captured and is awaiting his execution. With no dragons to burn him. Dany has him executed by Wildfire. "Dracarys"

Ending 1:Rhaegar's prophecy is true and his children save the realm from the Long Night

Ending 2:Aegon, Rhaenys and Daeron sacrifice themselves to end The Others, while Dany brings peace to the realm

Ending 3:The unholy union of Euron and Dany plunges the world into darkness.

[maid-with-sunset-in-her-hair]

I was reading your meta about blood orange tree and the mention of fig which represent greed. There are mention of figs in Dany many times. She quite like enjoying eating them.

Hello Dot! By themselves, the figs just represent the possible happy futures born out of different choices, they only represent greed when linked to the character sitting under a tree, who is unable to make a decision regarding their lives because they want it all.

And yes, she enjoyed eating figs... enjoyed being the key word here. Figs appear a couple of times in Daenerys’ chapters: Her slave offers a plate of them to her and Jorah after she humiliated Viserys by forcing him to walk behind everyone, the plaster that gave Drogo sepsis was made by blue mud and fig leaves, and Daenerys ate a bit of fig before trying to fix a brain-dead Drogo through the power of blowjobs. But I think the most important mention of figs happens in ACOK, right after Daenerys and her khalasar arrive to Vaes Tolorro:

Dany sent out men to search the ruins. Some went reluctantly, yet they went... and one scarred old man returned a brief time later, hopping and grinning, his hands overflowing with figs. They were small, withered things, yet her people grabbed for them greedily, jostling and pushing at each other, stuffing the fruit into their cheeks and chewing blissfully.

Other searchers returned with tales of other fruit trees, hidden behind closed doors in secret gardens. Aggo showed her a courtyard overgrown with twisting vines and tiny green grapes, and Jhogo discovered a well where the water was pure and cold. Yet they found bones too, the skulls of the unburied dead, bleached and broken. "Ghosts," Irri muttered. "Terrible ghosts. We must not stay here, Khaleesi, this is their place."

"I fear no ghosts. Dragons are more powerful than ghosts." And figs are more important. "Go with Jhiqui and find me some clean sand for a bath, and trouble me no more with silly talk."

In the coolness of her tent, Dany blackened horsemeat over a brazier and reflected on her choices. There was food and water here to sustain them, and enough grass for the horses to regain their strength. How pleasant it would be to wake every day in the same place, to linger among shady gardens, eat figs, and drink cool water, as much as she might desire. (ACOK Daenerys I)

The first thing they find to eat after the death march through the Red Waste is a handful of figs, symbolizing the potential happy lives they could find in Vaes Tolorro if they stayed. But while the Dothraki eat the fruit happily, there’s no mention of Daenerys eating any of the old man’s figs. She thinks about how nice it would be to live a peaceful sedentary life and eat figs while preparing meat for her dragons, but imediately discarts that idea:

When Irri and Jhiqui returned with pots of white sand, Dany stripped and let them scrub her clean. "Your hair is coming back, Khaleesi," Jhiqui said as she scraped sand off her back. Dany ran a hand over the top of her head, feeling the new growth. Dothraki men wore their hair in long oiled braids, and cut them only when defeated. Perhaps I should do the same, she thought, to remind them that Drogo's strength lives within me now. Khal Drogo had died with his hair uncut, a boast few men could make.  

Across the tent, Rhaegal unfolded green wings to flap and flutter a half foot before thumping to the carpet. When he landed, his tail lashed back and forth in fury, and he raised his head and screamed. If I had wings, I would want to fly too, Dany thought. The Targaryens of old had ridden upon dragonback when they went to war. She tried to imagine what it would feel like, to straddle a dragon's neck and soar high into the air. It would be like standing on a mountaintop, only better. The whole world would be spread out below. If I flew high enough, I could even see the Seven Kingdoms, and reach up and touch the comet.

Irri broke her reverie to tell her that Ser Jorah Mormont was outside, awaiting her pleasure. "Send him in," Dany commanded, sand-scrubbed skin tingling. She wrapped herself in the lionskin. The hrakkar had been much bigger than Dany, so the pelt covered everything that wanted covering.

"I've brought you a peach," Ser Jorah said, kneeling. It was so small she could almost hide it in her palm, and overripe too, but when she took the first bite, the flesh was so sweet she almost cried. She ate it slowly, savoring every mouthful, while Ser Jorah told her of the tree it had been plucked from, in a garden near the western wall. (ACOK Daenerys I)

She touches her hair and thinks about adopting the Dothraki’s symbols of victory and battle prowess, she looks at her dragon and thinks about how to weaponize it to get the Seven Kingdoms, and fly him to touch the comet she sees as the herald of her coming. And in the end she eats a peach, which symbolizes the Seven Kingdoms and becoming their ruler by conquest.

Daenerys eats figs often while she stays in Meereen, holding court, trying to make the peace with the Great Masters work and keep slavery abolished:

With so many still waiting on her pleasure, she did not stop to eat. Instead she dispatched Jhiqui to the kitchens for a platter of flatbread, olives, figs, and cheese. (ADWD Daenerys I)

Her cooks had prepared them a magnificent meal of honeyed lamb, fragrant with crushed mint and served with the small green figs she liked so much. (ADWD Daenerys IV)

Dany took a fig. It was black and plump, still moist with dew. Will Hizdahr ever make me scream? "It was the wind that you heard screaming." She took a bite, but the fruit had lost its savor now that Daario was gone. (ADWD Daenerys VII)

The rest was a tedium the queen knew well. She sat upon her cushions, listening, one foot jiggling with impatience. Jhiqui brought a platter of figs and ham at midday. There seemed to be no end to the petitioners. (ADWD Daenerys VII)

So it wouldn’t surprise me if figs become scarce and peaches start appearing more often once she embraces her family’s legacy of fire and blood.

[clarasimone]

The One I Love (every Friday!)

Summer 1914

Belgium has been invaded by the Germans, their army hoping to make gains across Europe in what will soon become World War I. A small portion of Flanders is still living in relative peace though the Front is getting nearer. It’s where we find our protagonists. On a farm where love will try to prevail.

*********************************************************************

This fiction is very freely inspired by the upcoming film The Last Front, starring Iain Glen. To be more specific, it was inspired by a behind-the-scenes news coverage capturing one specific scene: Glen's character embracing a young woman (as pictured in the poster art which opens chapter 1). This is to say that I wrote my fiction before the release of the film and knowing very little about its story.

What I do know though is that Glen's farmer and the young woman in his arms do not play lovers in the movie. My mind, on the other hand, led me to imagine *something else* because: HEY! 😍❤️🔥🧔

More seriously, the reason might be because, in recent years, Glen has often been cast with younger female co-stars and has developed amazing on-screen chemistry with them, including in his role of Ser Jorah Mormont with Emilia Clarke as Daenerys Targaryen in Games of Thrones.

Therefore, to say that my characterization of the love developing between my 'older man and younger woman' trope owes nothing to Jorleesi would be a lie ;-) This said, I did try to write Leonard with what Glen projected of him from the stills and excerpts I saw. He might also share a few traits with Glen's John Manly from Black Beauty, Magnus MacMillan in The Rig and his John Proctor in The Crucible.

As to the others: Mathilde, in the film, is called Louise. I changed her name to give me free rein and not upset future fans of the film... Adrien exists in the film but I know nothing of his arc and invented his backstory from scratch. The rest are completely original to me.

Finally, I'm dedicating this story to my script-ed extraordinaire, Terisrog. Not only because she's always her fabulous self but also because I might never have branched out in less canon-based writing had it not been for her encouragements and her belief in me. Merci mon amie ! Vraiment !!

Rated M.

[waitingforwinterwinds]

A Clash of Kings - 12 DAENERYS I (pages 170-184)

Dany rides through the desert on a horse with no name, finds an abandoned city, and unlocks Jorah's backstory. Jhogo makes contact with Qarth.

-

"Why should I fear Pono?" Dany objected. "He was Drogo's ko, and always spoke me gently." "Ko Pono spoke you gently," Ser Jorah Mormont said. "Khal Pono will kill you. He was the first to abandon Drogo. Ten thosuand warriors went with him. You have a hundred." No, Dany thought, I have four. The rest are women, old sick men, and boys whose hair had never been braided.

He was nice when you were his boss's wife, now you're just some lady who once tried to steal away his right to rape and slave as he liked. He's not even a bloodrider duty bound to see you safely to the dosh khaleen.

"They are mine," she said fiercely. They had been born from her faith and her need, given life by the deaths of her husband and unborn son and the maegi Mirri Maz Duur.

hmmmm... *reassesses theory on "the souls of the sacrifices used to wake the dragons being recycled into dragon souls" now with the idea that one of the dragons is ensouled by Mirri directly and not by Viserys.*

(Like, thematically and by naming convention it would make sense to be Viserys' soul, but on the other hand, he's been dead for donkey's yonks by this point.)

Her hair had all burned away in Drogo's pyre, so her handmaidens garbed her in the skin of the hrakkar Drogo had slain, the white lion of the Dothraki sea. Its fearsome head made a hood to cover her naked scalp, its pelt a cloak that flowed across her shoulders and down her back.

*gasp* Kimba! No!!! We were robbed by the show.

Their mounts subsisted on the tough brown devilgrass that grew in clumps at the base of rocks and dead trees. Dany sent outriders ranging ahead of the column but they found neither wells nor springs, only bitters pools, shallow and stagnant, shrinking in the hot sun.

yeah, sounds you are in 'dig for potable water' territory now. If you had cloth to filter it, you could filter the stagnant water, and use the dead trees to boil it clean, but in a desert like that, surface water is not what you want to be holding out hope for. You gotta dig.

"Aegon's dragons were named for the gods of Old Valyria," she told her bloodriders one morning after a long night's journey. "Visenya's dragon Vhagar, Rhaenys had Meraxes, and Aegon rode Balerion, the Black Dread. -"

Huh, neat. So named after as in those were the same names, or named after like Drogon after Drogo, with small changes?

... RIP Doreah.

Dany went to Ser Jorah one morning as they made camp amidst a jumble of black wind-scoured stones. "Are we lost?" she asked him. "Does this waste have no end to it?"

I imagine traveling exclusively by night makes navigating by stars easier, but there's no mention of it, are they legit just following the comet? How long is it going to be in the sky for? How long has it been there already?

Dany looked at the horizon with despair. they had lost a third of their number, and still the waste stretched before them, bleak and red and endless.

Not gonna lie, that's actually a better survival rate than I was expecting.

How long the city had been deserted she could not know, but the white walls, so beautiful from afar, were cracked and crumbling when seen up close. Inside was a maze of narrow, crooked alleys. The buildings were pressed close, their facades blank, chalky, windowless. Everything was white, as if the people who lived here had known nothing of color.

It would be interesting to know if the building were always only white because it reflects the light and heat, or if there was coloured paints and pigments on the walls long ago which have been long sun-bleached to whiteness, or if the Dothraki who once invaded stole everything of colour.

"What shall we seek, Khaleesi?" asked Jhogo. "Whatever there is," Dany answered. "Seek for other cities, living or dead. Seek for caravans and people. Seek for rivers and lakes and the great salt sea. Find how far this waste extends before us, and what lies on the other side. When I leave this place, I do not mean to strike out blind again. I will know where I am bound, and how best to get there."

Good girl, now that you've had the chance to stop and think you're thinking smart.

Rakharo was back first. ... Dany gave him charge of a dozen of her strongest men, and set them to pulling up the plaza to get to the earth beneath. If devilgrass could grow between the paving stones, other grasses would grow when the stones were gone. They had wells enough, no lack of water. Given seed, they could make the plaza bloom. Aggo was back next. ... Dany thanked him and told him to repair the gates. If enemies had crossed the waste to destroy these cities in ancient days, they might well come again. "If so we might be ready," she declared.

Somewhere in the multiverse, Dany and her khalasar stayed there, in their city of bones and grew into a small but prosperous little community. And no one hurt or betrayed or enslaved them ever again.

"ugly humped creatures that dwarfed any horse." CAMELS!

The pale man with the blue lips replied in guttural Dothraki, (...) The bald man with the jewels in his nose answered in the Valyrian of the Free Cities, (...) The woman in the lacquered wooden mask said in the Common Tongue of the Seven Kingdoms, (...)

That's interesting* each of the three speaking to Dany in a different language, like they're trying to appeal to a certain aspect of her through their use of the languages they share with her.

*New drinking game, y'all take a sip anytime the Reader says "that's interesting" XD

[jkl-fff]

Silly Game Time! Who are some of your favorite fighter characters? And what do you like about them?:D

A Preface: I'm a martial artist (IV Dan in Taekwon-Do, been doing it for over 25 years). Ergo, there are few things I love more than a good, realistic fight scene featuring competent fighters (within the rules of the universe, of course--"realism" looks different in a universe where people routinely shoot fireballs out of their hands or can jump 50 feet). The keywords there are "good", "realistic", and "competent" (double points for consistenty in the fighter's style, thus making it part of their characterization). Because I also have *extremely* high standards, since I understand what makes these things good and cometent (and consistent) and especially realistic in the real world. Having a good imagination means I can extrapolate that into a universe with expanded abilities (magic and so forth).

ANYWAY ...

From books, I'm a fan of Wayne from Sanderson's "Mistborn" series. The man has only two powers: Time Acceleration (in limited bubbles) and a Healing Factor (until he runs out). But he uses those so creatively and fearlessly to be an incredibly adept brawler who dual-weilds wooden canes to devastating effect. Plus, he's a cheeky scoundrel, and I always have a soft spot for them. He also is a kleptomaniac with a fixation on hats.

Also, Aximili-Esgarrouth-Isthill (Ax for short) from "The Animorphs" series. Despite being able to shapeshift into any animal he has the chance to physically touch, he does most of his fighting in his natural, Andalite form *and* unarmed. By the end of the series, dude muse be quite the skilled combatant by his people's standards. I also find him rather endearing, being the only alien teenager amongst a group of Human teenagers, and apparently the equivalent of a football jock now forced to be the smart guy.

From TV shows, I'll go with ... the titular character of the beautifully artistic show "Samurai Jack" (even if the last, resumed season left much to be desired, storywise). He's an idealistic paragon. He's a man of few words. He's a stoic vagabond. He tries to always be courteous despite having no clue what's going on most of the time. He strips down to his loincloth unnecessarily like he's got an exhibitionist fixation in, like, every episode. He loves the natural world. He's the greatest swordsman who has ever lived.

Aslo, Ser Jorah Mormont from "A Game of Thrones" (who Iain Glen performs magnificently). He's basically a sensible mercenary who becomes dedicated to the cause of the young, exiled, dragon-mothering princess Daenerys Targaryen out of love (a bit meh, a bit yuck, but fine) and as part of a quest for redepmtion. Why? She's a charismatic leader who seems for a long time to be genuinely dedicated to the cause of building a better, more just world. He's not the best fighter nor strategist in the world, but he's damned good at both.

For games, there's Cal Kestis from the games "Jedi: Fallen Order" and "Jedi: Survivor". He's one of the few Jedi still alive, and he has to reconnect with the Force and his training because he cut himself off from it to hide from the Empire. But he wasn't some master; no, he was just a young apprentice when all that happened, so there's a lot lacking in his skillsets, technique, and Force power. Besides which, he never feels invulnerable (which is refreshing for Star Wars protagonists, and also something that being a video game character makes the audience feel much more viscerally). He's earnest and his best friend is a cute, little droid he would die for. He has guilt and doubt and spite and darkness in him that he has to fight. He's so fashionable with his customizable clothing (you can make him so damn pretty in pink!).

And for movies, there's whoever the heck Jackie Chan's character is. Now, normally, being typecast is considered a bad thing for an actor. HOWEVER, when one finds their niche, they'd be a fool not to stick with it. For example, Sandra Bullock is the best career-driven woman who needs to learn to have fun and let love into her heart; Kelsey Grammer is the best out-of-touch, high cultured snob who is really witty but also becomes the butt of most situations due to his own arrogance; and Jackie Chan is, hands down, the best friendly guy who is also an acrobatic, martial arts master for reasons whose fights almost always become inadvertantly comedic. It makes him a delight to watch.

Thanks!

[tonystarksproperty]

ᴇꜱᴄᴀᴘᴇ | ᴋ.ᴅʀᴏɢᴏ

this is still a gn reader but you're called khalessi cause why not

disclaimer: italics indicate dothraki language

Anger cannot describe what is roaming within the Great Khal’s mind. Blinded with rage was more sufficient. Drogo had given you everything, he even took the time to explained his feelings with words and translations without force. But clearly it wasn’t working.  

You must be taking his gratitude to a farther extent, a disrespectful extent.

He refuses his inner dothrakian ways, to find a better answer to help on his journey of winning your love, but you were taking him for granted.

Your place was with him.

When he was delivered the news from a handmaidens.

Laughing and having a good time with a weak ale in hand, Irri and other maidens ran over to him. “Khal Drogo!” The handmaidens repeated in the common tongue language that Drogo understood.

The laughing deceased into either lustful smirks or annoyed-filled glances as the maidens came over.

Drogo was visibly upset. “Do not bring me news of your pathetic whore lives.” said Drogo as he gritted his teeth while his brown/near black eyes were narrowed that showed annoyance of being bothered by commoners such as women.  

The women sound almost out of breath. “My Khal, the khalessi.” Irri said as she pointed towards the large tent that was holding your body hostage.

The horse lord tilted his head in confusion. His eyebrows raised as he got the message.

He stood up and ran over towards the tent. Flapping its entrance, his grip tightened into an irritated fist as his teeth gritted. You were nowhere to be seen on the carpet of wolf fur.

Irri and two other maidens followed. “Where is the khalessi!?” The large Khal yelled in frustration.

The maiden's faces shrieked back in fear. “The guards that were assigned to the Khalessi had been unconscious, my Khal,” One of the maidens answered.

Irri stepped forward. “We assume that the Khalessi headed north, the only way the Khalaser hadn't travelled yet.” She added.  

At first, he was boiling with rage.

The servants that were outside your tent failed to guard you?

Then hearing that you knocked ’em unconscious had given him thoughts of you fighting, not him, anybody else turned him on.

Smiling that you were smart enough to go north pleases him, however knew he needed you to return.

Wasting no time, the large Khal had stomped out of the tent before whistling for his horse. He heard quick hooves click upon the dirt.

Telling the men of the khalaser to saddle up.

If north where you went, north was where he was going. 

He swung his leg over his horse's saddle before forcefully pulling on its reigns. Chanting in Dothraki and soon he and his men of the khalaser had went north, leaving the women with their dues.

Irri walked behind the tent that the great Khal and Khalessi shared to find you with a leaf made bag. “Is the Khal gone?” you asked with a slight frown forming. Irri nodded with a smile.

You blinked as your lips curved into a smile. “Thank you, Irri. I am in your debt.” You spoke in a calming, reassuring way.

Irri nodded before putting a hand on her hips.  “The men including the Khal went north, you should go south. Pass the dothrakian sea.” Irri suggested as she pointed south.

You smiled as her suggestion. “South is where I am heading then. Irri, my loyalist helper. I will return it to you,” you said as you clutched her hands within yours. 

You heard a throat be cleared.  

You turned towards the voice to see Ser Jorah. “Jorah.” You bowed your head to respect his presence.

Jorah put a hand up to prevent any more formalities. You were far from it“The Khal is searching, for you.” Jorah said as he approached. “The khalessi leaving, this is opportunity.” Irri said, almost threatening the male when she defended you.

He nodded at the maiden before turning to you. “I assure you. I am aware of Khalessi’s intentions.” Jorah said with a stoic expression. “Will you and your horse guide me towards the narrow sea?” You asked with almost a pleading tone.

Jorah eyes scanned your body. You had bruises along with your face covered with a handprint. “I will.” Jorah answered before walking away. You turned your gaze towards Irri who smiled.

You both let out a relieved gasp as you embraced each other. “I will never forget you, Khalessi...” Irri said as tears brim from her brown eyes. You smiled at her statement.  

You both released each other as you wiped her tears. “I will always be here.” You said as you pointed towards her heart in the valley of her cleavage. Pointing to her heart She smiled before hugging you one last time. “Go. You must.” She spoke, pushing you away.

You were about to put up a protest before you heard Ser Jorah on his horse approach. You looked back at Irri, who had given a reassuring smile. “I know. You will set me free.” She worshipped.

You smiled before nodding as you ran towards Ser Jorah's horse. “My Khalessi.” Ser Jorah greeted as he pulled your palm as your leg swung over the horse.

You hummed in acknowledgment. “Soon, it will just be Y/N.” You answered the elder man as he flapped the horse reigns. Your hair blew in the wind as the horse had increased its speed. You looked back at the camp.

Seeing Irri's waving hand along with the other two maidens.  “The Khal returns!” One of the women yelled while running towards the you all.

You felt adrenaline fill your veins. “It appears the Khal returns with anger.” Jorah spoke as his body was turned towards the front of him, his horse passed through plains and grass.

You looked down at the ground with sadden eyes. “Are you certain that this is the decision you wish, Y/N?” Jorah continued. You furrowed your brows.

You came too far, but was this worth it?

Risking the lives of the handmaidens for honor?

You looked down at the tall grass as you passed by.

No.

They wanted to.

They had a choice and they made it to help you escape. “I am sure.” You reassured. You found yourself near the bank of the narrow sea. Both you and Jorah were dazed by the view.

You stared at the other side. Although, you would break your vow and become a rogue outsider. Winterfell was where you were going.

You looked down at the raft that was provided. You smiled at the sight.

You dismounted the horse by swinging your leg over its back. You landed with a grunt as your outfit had been slightly disheveled.

You wore a silver-like outfit that had been long to reach your feet as the sleeves were ripped. It was what separated you from the others in the tribe.

You were about to board the raft 'til you had heard horses' hooves and whinnying nearby. “Jorah?” You asked as you turned your head towards him.

Your feet had been ankles deep in the water. “Forgive me, Khalessi.” Jorah said he rode towards the sound of the horse's approach. You were confused.

Why did he apologize?

Your eyes widen as you heard Dothraki chants.  

You gritted your teeth as you made an exit towards the raft as you heard heavy footsteps.

Feeling fear within you had allowed you to begin crying. You attempted to get on the raft until you were in a rough embrace.

Feeling familiar arms around your neck and waist. You found yourself grinding as you attempted to be released.

You gritted your teeth as you turned your head slightly to see familiar blue paintings. You sighed in defeat as you already knew who it was. “Did you think you could escape?” asked Drogo as he tightened his grip around your body.

You grunted in discomfort from his iron grip. “You cannot escape.” He continued before laying a kiss on your cheek as you moved your face to the side.

He gritted his teeth before gripping your face. “I won’t let you leave me.” Drogo says before motioning towards the horse. “Get on.” He commanded in a husky voice in your ear that was too wayyyy deep and soothing enough to send waves of pleasure yet fear throughout your body.  

You hesitated due to fear consuming your clouded judgment. “Drogo, if you find the mercy to allow me to explain.” You said as he grabbed your wrist with boiling rage as he guided you to his horse. “You are far from explaining.” He huffed as he lifted you forcefully and roughly.

Drogo had kept his arms around your waist the entire time. You kept letting pleas and begs to attempt to ease his anger, but he had already gone over the limit.

You were silent for remaining. Your mouth quivered as tears brimmed in fear. You were too scared to speak to the raging Khal.

You gritted your teeth as Ser Jorah and his horse came to the side of Khal Drogo’s. Your gloomy eyes met the Ser Jorah's as he sighed at your gaze

Your grip loosens on Drogo’s waist as fear consumed you. But he let out a huff, swallowing your pride: you tighten your grip with closed eyes as your face was burrowed within his bare back muscles.

You kept saying pleas and begs for not having a punishment. 

But he was silent. Quieter than the narrow sea. You felt the horse stop.

Your eyes widened as you positioned yourself off his back and memorized the surroundings of the camp you attempted to escape.

Drogo went off the horse first before yanking you off with him. You grunted as your bare feet hit the ground. You searched your surroundings to see Irri staring at you with teary eyes. 

You yanked your gaze to the ground as your hand was clutched by Drogo who was leading towards your tent. You were too shameful.  

You failed to escape and almost risked the life of your loyalist steeds.

Drogo had pushed you inside the tent rather roughly. “I shall teach you, again, where your place is, moon of my life.” He said as you landed on the furry carpet and looked back at him with fear in your eyes.

All you saw was a devilish smile.

You couldn't help but cry. For your tears were the only thing that comforted you that night; and the very thought of that moment made you gag. You had a feeling, hope that you could finally be free; but drogo wasn't easily manipulated.

You never saw a glance of freedom; you were stuck with him. You were drawn to him. You fought your way towards the end where another wall awaits.

There was no escaping the Great Khal Drogo



© tonystarksproperty

[littlexredxwolf]

[smookiebirb]

"The mother of dragons! It's a pleasure to meet you." You announced as you entered the great hall of Winterfell.

"Your grace, this is (y/n) Stark." Jon told Daenerys.

"The pleasure is mine, I've heard a lot of tales about you and your valor." Daenerys smiled at you.

"I bet you have, your grace. You hit people once and they never stop talking about it." You laughed. "And I have heard a lot of tales about you and your dragons. Though nothing I heard could have prepared me for your striking beauty, your grace. Truly magnificent."

"You're too kind, (y/n)." Daenerys smiled.

"And honest, your grace." You replied. "No wonder I couldn't find many fair ladies in Westeros, you had taken all the beauty east with you."

Daenerys met your eyes with a small smirk, "Perhaps you'd like to sit beside me for the supper, (y/n) Stark." She said, her eyes sparking with interest.

"I'd be honored, your grace." You replied.

You could see both Ser Jorah and Jon frowning from the corner of your eyes. It seemed you were hardly the first one to take a liking to the Dragon Queen.

[ravenofthefandoms]

Jorah the Northman

Word Count: 2454

Pairing: Jorah Mormont x reader

Characters: Jorah Mormont, Maege Mormont (mentioned), Lyanna Mormont, Sansa Stark (mentioned), Jon Snow (mentioned), Davos Seaworth (mentioned), Daenerys Stormborn Targaryen, Missandei, Samwell Tarly (mentioned), OC (Jaran Mormont, son of Jorah Mormont)

Warnings: MDNI 18+, angst with some light smut at the end

A/N: Oh Jorah. What a man! I hope you all enjoy this one. I’m not sure if I want to do a part 2 for this one, but I could definitely do a cute little reunion between Jorah and his and reader’s son! We’ll see how much people like this and then, if its gaining enough love, I’ll make a part 2! Also, RIP Jorah :( this was written a loooong time before Season 8 even aired so sorry for opening those wounds back up for all my Jorah fans

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters except for Jaran Mormont. The rest belong to George R.R. Martin and to HBO. Any gifs used do not belong to me. They belong to their original creator.

Life was not as easy as it had once been. With fighting in the North and fighting in the South, the world felt like it was being torn in half. Your heart felt the same.

It was many years ago when you were married to Ser Jorah Mormont, heir to House Mormont. You married ten years ago, and bore him a child six years ago. For four years, you attempted to bear him a child, but after three miscarriages, you felt yourself giving up. Jorah never did though. He told you that, someday, your belly would swell with his child and it would make him the happiest man alive. And, after four years, you did. Jaran Mormont, son of Jorah Mormont. He was your pride and joy, the light of your life. The night that you pushed him into the world was the night you cried, truly cried, for the first time.

However, those days of happiness were cut short when the love of your life and the father of your son was exiled from Westeros and was forced to leave you with his family. You wanted to flee with him, but no amount of arguing would change his mind. He had no idea where he was going or where he would end up. Despite everything, he was glad that he was able to meet his son before his undeniable disappearance.

For six more years, you raised your boy by yourself. Thankfully, the Mormonts were kind enough to allow you to stay on Bear Island and keep the name “Mormont” that they valued so much. Instead of keeping the title of Lord Mormont for your son, you handed the lordship over to your goodsister. “I am not a true Mormont, and I will not preside over this house in place of my son. You are the rightful heir, dear sister.” Those were your words, five years ago, when Jorah fled. That didn’t seem to last long, however, because it seemed like sooner rather than later that Lyanna was named the Lady Mormont of Bear Island. You were glad that it was her, though; she was a strong child, no matter what people said.

When Lyanna went to Westeros, you and Jaran accompanied her. “Aunt (Y/N), I would like you to be by my side. Your advice is as good as any maester’s or lord’s.” For a girl so young, she was so wise. She was a Mormont bear, through and through. So you accepted and accompanied the little lady as her advisor and her aunt.

Over your five years without your lover, you had heard many rumors. The latest one was that he served the Targaryen girl, Khaleesi, she was called. Daenerys Stormborn of the House Targaryen. Rightful Heir to the Iron Throne and every other title that she had added on to the end of it.

You couldn’t help yourself when you approached Jon Snow, however. He had claimed that he was leaving for Dragonstone to seek out the help of the Targaryen. Though you disapproved, you insisted on accompanying him. If Jorah was truly serving this Daenerys Targaryen, then he would follow her to the ends of the world. No matter the wrongs he has made, he was the most loyal man you ever knew. If she was at Dragonstone, then so was he.

Reluctantly, Jon Snow had agreed. Lyanna took much more time to convince, but you finally managed to change her mind. You debated a lot on taking your sweet son with you, but decided against it. Lyanna and Sansa would look after him. From all the times you had said goodbye to someone, his was the hardest. Your (E/C) eyes welled with tears, dripping from your nose and chin. He cried as well, and refused to let go of your leg. Finally, Lyanna managed to pry him from you before giving you a hug as well. You promised to return as soon as you could. Then you set off.

*At the Citadel*

When the young man had asked Jorah if there was any family that he should write to, he thought about you. His lovely wife and his lovely son. How he wished that he could write to you, telling you how much he stilled loved you and loved Jaran. He knew, however, that writing of his untimely death would kill you as much as it killed him. Deciding against it, he told the man that he was estranged to his family.

Little did he know that those words would soon be false.

*At Dragonstone*

When you met Daenerys, you weren’t surprised that Jorah had sworn fealty to her. She was strong and willful and took what she wanted. In all actuality, you could see some of him in her. And it broke your heart.

When she learned who you were, she was beyond surprised. Jorah never mentioned a wife or a child. One would think that those would be important things to mention to your queen. But since he believed that he would never see either of you again, he decided that it would be better if he tried to forget you. He found that to be impossible.

One night, out of nowhere, you received a summons from the young queen. Instead of asking you for anything material, she asked you for information. “You are Ser Jorah’s wife? And the father of his son?” You nodded your head to both softly, smiling softly. “My lady, did you know that Ser Jorah had received a royal pardon? He could have returned home to you, but he didn’t. He stayed here, with me.” At first, you were surprised at the fact that he had received a royal pardon. Your soft smile returned and your eyes softened with it. You knew that she wasn’t trying to bait you or instigate you. The child was merely curious, because a child she was.

“Your Grace, that doesn’t surprise me. I’m sure Jorah thought that I had moved on, left him for another. It had been five years, after all. Seeing me with another would kill him. Besides, he felt that your cause was worth fighting for, despite everything else.” You could see the guilt in her eyes, so you reached out and took her hand in your own. “Your Grace, I am not angry. Far from it, in fact. Jorah is a loyal man. If he believes you to be the best ruler for this country, then so do I. He does not choose sides so easily.”

Your answer seemed to be enough for the young queen, considering that she became much more open to you afterwards.

——

It had been a few days after your talk with the Targaryen queen. An unfamiliar boat was seen approaching the island, so you opted to stay in your chambers while everything was being sorted out. You read for those few hours, unknowing of what was happening in the hall so close to you.

When Jorah arrived, he had no knowledge of your presence on the island. He was taken directly to Daenerys, who smiled broadly when she saw him. After finding out it was he who had arrived at Dragonstone, she asked that neither Jon nor Davos tell you of his arrival. It would make your reunion that much sweeter. After Jorah told his story of how he became cured, Daenerys told Missandei to take him to his chambers. Her smile told her friend enough, and that by his chambers, she meant yours.

Missandei knocked on your door gently, earning a look of confusion from Jorah and a call for her to enter from you. Jorah’s eyes widened when he heard your voice. It was one he could never forget. It was the one that sung him to sleep, that moaned his name, that sobbed with his child in your arms, the one that comforted him whenever he needed it. The door was opened slightly, and he stepped in, speechless.

You never looked up from your book. “What can I do for you, Missandei?” The young woman spoke with you often, and you were finally able to tell which knocks were hers and which weren’t. Hers were always firm, but soft at the same time. “(Y/N)...” The familiar voice caused your head to snap up and for the book to drop from your hands. There he stood, in the flesh and still alive.

“Jorah!” Your voice was strained with the sudden weight of tears behind your eyes as you stood shakily. In two large steps, he closed the distance between you two and engulfed you in his arms. You began to weep, as was he. You could feel his body shaking with sobs as you two held each other tightly. “Jorah, my love.” You heard the door close as Missandei left, a smile on her face, but didn’t register it. Pulling away slightly, you looked at his face. Your hand moved up, cupping his cheek gently. He was just as handsome as you remembered, only he was darker from the sun and his eyes sparkled with tears. For one of the first times in a long time, he found himself unable to speak.

Slowly, you stepped away so you could look at him. The clothes he wore were much different than what he wore on Bear Island, but it suited him. You could see the scars covering his forearms, his sleeves rolled up to the elbow. The fact that he still did that made you smile tearfully. Some of the scars were old and familiar, while others were fresher. He was still taller than you, and still the complete opposite. While he was all hard lines and muscle, you were soft, round curves and plump as any woman your age was. He still found you to be the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen.

“Oh, (Y/N). I never thought I’d see you again.” The two of you broke out into fresh sobs and embraced once more. After a while, the two of you managed to calm yourselves and moved to sit on the bed. He told you of how he contracted greyscale and of how Samwell Tarly at the Citadel managed to cure him, explaining the strange scars along his arm.

“I missed you, so much. Jaran misses you.” Your voice was still as soft as fur and still held that light tone that made you sound like you were eternally happy for some unknown reason.

After a quiet moment, he leaned down a slowly placed his lips over yours in a gentle kiss. The feeling was so familiar, it reminded you of home. “How is our boy?” He asked softly, placing kisses all over your face. “He is as well as can be. He is growing so fast, my love. Soon enough, he will be more of a bear than even your father.” You said with a soft chuckle. He nodded before leaning you back into the bed, his lips finding yours once more, though the kiss held more now. After a few moments, you pulled away. “My love, we should wait. I wouldn’t want to keep the young queen waiting.” He nodded, pressing a kiss to your lips again before pulling you up to stand.

“I will return soon, my love. When I do…” His voice trailed off and he bent down to place a lingering kiss against your lips, full of promise. Your heart began to beat a little faster and you could feel your face heat. Even after all these years, he still managed to make you flustered with his simple words and simple touches. He had a soft smile on his face as he pressed a kiss to your cheek before walking out.

Letting out a soft sigh, you grinned as you laid back on the bed. Your heart felt full as you thought about Jorah and the chance you had to have a real family together. It wasn’t long before Jorah returned, his face a mix of emotions. As soon as the door closed behind him, he was on top of you with his lips moving against yours. You returned the kisses but pulled away. “My love, Jorah, what’s the matter?” You asked softly. He shook his head and moved his lips back down to yours.

You knew better than to press right now, and gave into the desires you both felt. Moving your hands up his chest, you got his shirt off while he undid the laces of your dress. He pulled away for a moment, taking the time to admire the body he hadn’t seen in years. You did the same, looking over his mostly-faded scars. “I love you.” Was all he murmured before he was pulling your dress from your body and the pants from his legs. Soon enough, you were both naked and panting, stealing kisses and touching each other.

Then he was guiding his member to your own wetness, rubbing against it gently before pressing into you slowly. You let out breathy moans, resting your forehead against his chest as he began to rock against you. His thrusts were gentle and slow, but held a strength and a fierce need behind them that had you crying out. He moaned softly, his groans near your ear sending shivers down your spine. The world disappeared from around you two and became just Jorah and you, with his hips rocking into yours and your hands palming at his shoulders. The two of you climaxed together, crying out each other’s names.

He pulled out of you, laying down on the bed and pulling you into his arms. “My love, I’m sorry.” He murmured against your neck. You held him as you did before, his face buried in your chest. “For what?” You asked softly. After a moment, you felt him begin to sob. You rocked him softly, running a hand through his hair.

“I’m leaving again. North, past the wall. I’m taking you North as well, but you will go back to Winterfell. I must serve my queen.” It tore him apart. He wanted to spend time with you and Jaran, but it was his duty to serve Daenerys in whatever way he could. You felt tears begin to slide down your face as you leaned down and pressed your face against his hair. Sobbing, you held onto him tightly. “I love you. Come back to me. Come back to us.” You murmured softly and he nodded, holding onto you tightly.

It hurt, but you couldn’t stop him. You wouldn’t try and make him choose. He was your lover and always would. You knew that, no matter what, he would come back to you.

[shadeysprings]

Steep Price

— Jorah Mormont x F!Reader

Summary: The night you pick your boyfriend up from work is the night when your entire life comes crashing down. 

Warnings: noncon, fingers at play, physical violence, public smut, character death & kidnapping. There may be more but do take caution as this is a dark fic.

A/N: Written for @the-slumberparty's Week One: I Spy Challenge. The word I chose to incorporate here is diamond necklace with the theme of addiction and setting of mafia. It has been a while since I wrote Dark Jorah so here we are. Also, a big shout out to @sgt-seabass for giving me the idea of the fic as well as allowing me to incorporate her work, Clockwork, into this fic (kindly check that out) and also to my beta, @mochie85. You both are rockstars!

Your feedback is highly appreciated and encouraged. Reblogs would be really amazing. Enjoy! ❤️

The chime of the bell is music to your ears as it resounds through the air upon opening the doors of the quaint bookshop. Your nose, kissed by the scent of the pages, wrapping you in a cocoon of comfort and warmth, a huge contrast to the cold rain that continues to fall down from the evening sky.

The place is empty, after giving it a quick observation while folding your umbrella close and stowing it in the stand. You hear your name being called from further in the front room, a smile forming on your lips as you make your way to the counter, seeing your boyfriend, Doug, place down a box of books on the ground and stalk over to you. 

His lips immediately find yours, your arms wrapping around his neck. Dark, blond locks fall over his forehead when he pulls away only to nuzzle his nose against yours in greeting. 

“You’re here early.” He says against your lips and you let out a giggle as he showers your face with a few butterfly kisses, his fuzzy beard tickling your cheeks. “I won’t be off for another thirty minutes.”

“I know.” You mumble, your hands sliding down to press against his firm chest, the cotton of his navy shirt smooth to the touch. “And you know I don’t mind waiting. The books are very much pleasant company.” He smiles at your words and you notice how his eyes move down to your neck. 

“You’re wearing it.” He breathes, his hand reaching up to caress the small diamond pendant that hangs by a silver chain, his birthday present to you. 

“Of course, I am.” You wrap your fingers around his wrist while his thumb caresses the crystal surface. “I’d wear everything you give me.” The slight slant on his lips is enough for you to know what he’s thinking, that of the 3 years you’ve been together, the necklace was the first gift he’s ever given you. 

You’ve told him you didn’t need extravagant things, that his love was enough to sustain the emotional connection you have together. But he was insistent, promising the year before he gave you the diamond necklace that he would make it up to you. And knowing Doug, he is nothing but persistent in whatever he puts his mind to—a trait you deeply appreciate. 

“Douglas—” He blinks when you call his attention, curious, blue eyes meeting yours. “Speaking of books, did it arrive today?” You beam. 

“Oh!” It’s as if your question snaps him out of a trance, the smile returning to his face. He takes your hand and leads you to the back of the counter with excitement. “Good thing you reminded me.” He hums as he opens the door of the stock room.

You feel giddy as your feet follow him willingly, each step filled with anticipation as he leads you further inside. A multitude of boxes greet you, each one stacked neatly against the wall and into shelves, the titles of the novels hidden within painted on the sides. And it’s when he stops that you recognize the words staring back at you, your hand moving on its own accord to run against the cardboard surface—Clockwork.

“They came in this morning and are scheduled to be sold tomorrow.” He says as he grabs a box cutter from his back pocket and cuts open the lid. He takes a book from inside before carefully sliding it between your palms.

Your eyes glisten as you stare down at the cover, the silver pocket watch sitting proudly above the black background and you can’t help but run your fingers against the embossed image. You turn the cover open and read the brief summary, fingertips tingling with exhilaration as you’re tempted to flip a page and begin reading the first chapter. 

But you hesitate, as much as you want to indulge yourself in the novel, you wouldn’t want to ruin a brand new copy and eventually not have it sold to potential customers. 

“Why aren’t you reading? Don’t you like it?” Doug asks, and you look up at him, seeing the curiosity swimming in his eyes. 

“I do—it’s just, I don’t want to ruin the book.” You pout and place the copy back in the box only for him to take it out again. 

“I can keep this copy and buy it later at a discount.” He volunteers, pressing the hardbound back into your hands before closing up the box. “But you’ll have to wait after two weeks. I get my paycheck then.”

“I appreciate the gesture, babe, but you know we can’t.” 

You and Doug have been planning on buying a house since last year and have decided to save every penny you earned towards that goal. The necklace was indeed a surprise—a bookshop associate isn’t paid much to afford such things—but he promised that it didn’t cost him more than what he could afford. 

Still, you decided that it would be the last of the luxury you both spent on, and a book this big in the market, as tempting as it is, isn’t worth losing an opportunity to set aside for something much bigger in the future.

“I could probably download an ebook by the end of the month.” You say with a smile, an attempt to comfort him. “I’m not in a hurry to grab a copy.” 

“Knowing you and your love for these novels?” He scoffs, the sound more teasing than insulting. “Or what about I keep the copy and you come over an hour before closing so you can read it?” He offers, a wide grin chiseled on his face. “That way, even if you don’t have a copy, you’re still keeping up with the story.”

“You think Lorraine won’t mind?”

“What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.” He chuckles, taking your arms and folding them over the book, the hardcover pressing against your chest. “Go on. Settle in a corner and read it. You’ll probably get to chapter three before I finish closing up.” 

“But—”

“Go on.” He urges with a laugh, ushering you out of the stock room before closing the door behind him. “I’ll meet you at your table when I’m done, okay? And you can tell me how much you like the book after.” It’s all he says before pressing a kiss on the top of your head and leaving you by the counter to resume his task. 

You stare at the book in your arms, smiling as you admire the cover once more. He does have a point. If you can’t have a copy yet, what’s wrong with reading one in the store? It’s not like you’re stealing it. No harm, no foul.

The excitement returns in full force and you immediately scurry to your favorite table in the shop, your breathing heavy as you take a seat and settle the novel atop the wooden surface. Taking a deep breath, you flip the book to the first chapter and begin reading the text; your mind immediately building the scene, slipping your feet in the shoes of the protagonist, and imagining yourself walking down a pathway with the summer sun beating down on your neck.

You feel your heart race as each scene shapes the story, the first several pages leaving you breathless and wanting, a slave to the author and her captivating words. 

The chime of the bell briefly takes your attention but you’re immediately sucked back into the world at the edge of your fingertips. Your blood is filled with adrenaline as the story reaches a peak you didn’t expect, digesting each paragraph, the anticipation of what’s to come next washing over you in a huge wave each time you turn the page. 

A loud groan then echoes from the back of the shop and you stop mid-read, a sudden sense of trepidation crawling up your spine. You think it was just Doug running the cart to return the books to their proper place but something tells you it's so much more that you close the book with a snap and stand from your seat, slowly walking to where you heard the sound to check on it.

“Babe? You okay back there?” You call, peeking from the shelves. The lack of response renders you nervous for it’s unusual for him not to ease your worry. “Doug?” You try again, your steps slow and measured as you peer at another aisle then another yet seeing him gone. 

You make your way to the reading nook, the place volunteers would read to the children on Wednesdays, expecting to see him tidying up the space. And you do see him, seated in one of the smaller chairs, a sigh of relief escaping your lips before deciding to make your way towards him. 

But your feet falter and a silent gasp leaves your lips when a fist meets his face, knocking him to the ground. Your eyes widen in shock when he lays on his side, coughing violently, blood sputtering out of his mouth and staining the floor.

“Where are my diamonds, thief?” A gruff voice echoes through the open space, the face of the stranger blocked by the shelves. 

“I already told you—” Doug groans as he tries to push himself off the floor. “I don’t have—”

But a foot lands on his abdomen, kicking him harshly onto his back before he can even finish talking. You see the man draws near him, a black button-up hidden underneath a black coat. His ginger, blond curls are messy from the effort he’s exerted to hurting the man you love. 

He lands another kick then another and you grit your teeth in anger as the sound of Doug’s pained groans fills your ears. 

The grip on the book tightens and you take a deep breath before shouting loudly for him to stop, barreling toward your boyfriend’s assailant with the hardbound raised over your head with the intention of sending back a harsh blow. But someone catches you by the waist, pinning your arms to your sides which makes you drop the book at your feet.

“Leave him alone!” You yell as you thrash against the solid wall of chest behind you, kicking your legs violently and squirming to be released. “Let me go, you bastard! What the fuck do you want from us?!” You don’t relent, groaning as you try to escape but pain soon radiates at your sides when your captor tightens their grip around you. “Who are they, Doug?! What do they want?!”

You stop moving when you see the man clad in a black suit staring at you then at your boyfriend before picking the novel from the ground. His fingers kiss the tip of his tongue as he begins flipping through the pages with a curious hum.

“Who is she, Douglas?” He asks without looking up.

“She—she’s no one.” Doug coughs, his arm wiping the blood dripping from his lips as he struggles to get up.

The ginger-blond stranger waves his hand in nonchalance when suddenly, another stands behind Doug, grabbing him by his arm to pull him up on his knees. Fear immediately runs up your spin when you hear the click of a gun, Doug stays still on the ground as the barrel of the weapon his pressed to the back of his head. 

“I will try again.” The man says as he licks his fingers once more, flipping another page. “Who is she and what is she doing here?” He intones, the tension in the air thickening. “She can’t possibly be a customer. Your store has been closed for some time now.” The sound of the book snapping shut makes your heart jump, swallowing thickly as you raise your chin when the edge is pressed high against your neck.

“I said she’s no one.” Doug snarls, his mouth painted crimson as he turns to face you. “Just let her go, Mormont. She has nothing to do with this.”

The man—Mormont—seems to consider his words.

“Well, if she’s no one, you wouldn’t mind if we shut her up then,” Mormont says with a wicked grin and nodding in your direction. Out of the blue, you feel cold metal press on your temple, whimpering as tears begin rolling down your face. “We wouldn’t want any witnesses to our little exchange, now  do we, Douglas?”

“Jorah,” Someone calls and Mormont turns to look over his shoulder. “The necklace. On the girl.”

Mormont’s eyes snap back to you, dark oceanic orbs meeting yours that slowly run down to the base of your neck. Your throat bobs when you feel his rough fingers brush against your skin, his eyes narrowing then widening as if recognizing the jewel that sits at the base of your neck. The book that holds your chin up is soon replaced by his hand.

“I’m guessing you like mafia novels, huh, sweetheart?” Still staring at the necklace, he holds up the novel for you to see, the cover staring back at you. But you keep your mouth shut, too afraid to even utter a sound. “Well, you’re in one right now and I’m sure you’re fairly familiar with how things like these go, am I right?” His eyes find yours, seeing malice laced into his irises. The gun at your temple is removed and he gives the book to the man that’s held you captive. 

Slowly, he circles you like a predator would its prey, your chest heaving and your back going rigid when you sense him stop behind you. His hand finds purchase around your neck, your chin moving upward upon instinct. He tightens his hold and you wince, your hand reaching up to take hold of his wrist. 

“I ask you a question and you answer. Am I understood?” He whispers, feeling crowded as he bends over you, his other hand resting tauntingly against your hip. “Now, be a good girl and tell me where you got the necklace, darling.” 

You don’t respond, your eyes drifting to Doug as you try to seek him for answers. Who are they? What do they want? Questions lingering in your head. But his face gives nothing away, fingers flexing against his thighs and curling into fists as he watches the display before him. 

Mormont tuts at your silence, crying in silence as his hand moves to the front of your jeans, his fingers tapping along the button and the fly, threatening to slide past the barrier. 

“Staying quiet won’t do you any good, darling.” He groans against your ear, his beard prickling your skin when he presses his face against your temple. “Now, I’ll ask again.” His hot breath scalds your cheek and you cry out when he suddenly slips his hand through your pants and panties, rough fingers pushing down further to cup your sex. You grit your teeth and grab tight on his wrist, trying to pull his hand out when he presses his thumb against your clit. “Where did you get the necklace?”  

You open your mouth to speak, to give him the answer he seeks for him to stop. But no words come out, only a silent scream when he slips a digit past your folds, his foot pushing yours aside to spread your legs wide. 

“Stop it! Don’t touch her!” Doug shouts from where he kneels and tries to get up. “She knows nothing!” But the man behind him kicks him on the back, causing him to fall once more. 

“I thought she was no one, Douglas?” Mormont mocks as he fucks you with his finger, your chest heaving as your stomach rolls in disgust with the unwanted pleasure that burns within your core. Your pussy clamps down on his digits when he slips another finger, stretching you wide. “Why does she have my diamond, Dougie?” He spits and you gasp sharply when he adds a third, your back arching against his solid chest as his thumb presses roughly against your clit, his hand twisting in your pants, turning in a new angle to fuck you faster with his fingers. 

Your breathing grows heavy and you feel the room closing in on you as your toes curl from his touch. You cry in desperation, vision blurry as you turn into a babbling mess, begging for him to stop. But he’s impervious to your pleas, your spine tingling and your face heating with shame as your cunt slickens with every thrust.

“S-stop—” You whimper, both hands grabbing on his wrist as you once more try to pull free from his cruelty. “P-please—I’ll talk! I’ll—” The words come out garbled, clogging your throat as moans rush out from your lips.

“I gave it to her!” Doug shouts and Mormont’s hand stills from your cunt, the arousal slipping from your blood. “Please—just stop.” He sobs while walking towards you on his knees. “I stole the diamonds, Jorah. I stole them and gave her a piece as a present.” The confession that drips from his lips is a stab to your heart, that he’s crossed such dangerous men and all for a piece of rock.  

Mormont’s silence is deadly and you feel his chest rumble against your back as he lets out a deep breath. Then all at once, his hold on your neck tightens and you shout in terror when his fingers begin to move once again, choking as he digs his fingers into your throat, the flame deep in your belly flickering back to life. 

“You take my things, I’ll take yours!” He snarls and two men grab hold of Doug’s arms when he lunges at you, holding him back as he struggles to set himself free. 

Your body shakes as his fingers continue to pull you closer to the edge. 

“No! You bastard!” Doug shouts but Mormont simply laughs, the sinister sound blaring in your eyes. 

“Look at him, darling. Look at that pathetic excuse of a man.” He commands yet you defy him, closing your eyes as you refuse to face your boyfriend in humiliation. But his grip on your neck tightens further and you open your eyes, Mormont’s hand framing your jaw as he forces you to look Doug in the eyes. “Look at him! I want him to see you come because of me. I want him to bare witness to what his stupidity has led you into.”

Tears flow once more from your eyes as you face him. His eyes are full of anger yet his face sullen in defeat as he’s left helpless to defend you. Your eyes then shut tight as your spine curves and your head rests against Mormont’s shoulder, your fingers digging hard into his sleeve when your body shakes, your cunt fluttering around his digits when you come hard on his hand. 

He continues to thrust in you, fingers sliding easily against your sopping walls. A sigh then escapes you when he pulls his hand away, smearing your juices over your abdomen and then slipping them into his mouth. 

“Fuck—you taste like honey.” Mormont growls, your body limp against his, breathing heavy, that you don’t even bother to pull away when he trails kisses from your cheek and down to your clothed shoulder. “No wonder that loser stole from me. I’d shower diamonds at your feet if I get to fuck such a sweet cunt.” The remark makes your stomach turn in disgust, shame encapsulating you that you allowed this man to toy with you as he pleased. 

“Jorah—” The man from earlier calls. “You had your fun. We have to go.”

Mormont sighs. “Very well.” Your eyes spring open when you hear a loud thud, seeing Doug on the ground once again, holding himself up with his hands and knees. “Kill him.”

“No!” You pull away from Mormont’s hold but he lifts you up in his arms effortlessly, the strength surging back in your veins as you thrash against him. “Doug! Doug!” You cry as you're taken to the doorway of the library. “Please! Don’t kill him! Please—” You sob as you beat against his arm. 

The cold air sears your skin as you’re pushed out of the bookshop, the rain coming down harder than before and lighting painting the sky followed by the crash of thunder. You continue to fight, to retch yourself free from your captors, and go back inside to try and save your love. But Mormont shoves you roughly into the awaiting vehicle, your back hitting the other side as you slide against the leather seat. 

Nonetheless, you waste no time. You jiggle on the handle harshly, trying to pull the lock out of its place, but your fingers stiffen and your head snaps back to the shop when a gunshot rings from the inside, your heart stopping as the door shuts close after Mormont takes his seat, the car driving off into the evening storm. 

I no longer keep a tag list but if you want to be kept updated on my fics, follow my side blog @springdandelixn-archives and turn on notifications.

[jossilyn-embereth]

Being in Love with Daenerys would include

Knowing she was special from the moment you saw her walk down the castle steps to be presented to Drogo.

Sewing together while in the Dothraki camp, and helping her adjust to the new life.

Becoming one of her hand maidens, and closest friends.

Being completely terrified when she comes to you for advice on pleasing men, but ultimately agreeing to help.

Being completely terrified as you teach her how to kiss, sure that she would see right through you and know how you felt about her.

Consoling her after losing Drogo and her child.

Pledging your life to her after she survives the flames of the pyre.

Being honest with her no matter what, because you want her to be the best she can be.

Learning battle strategy and sword fighting from Jorah so that you can be of better use to her and her cause.

Never voicing your feelings, knowing that it was the last thing she needed to be worried about.

Long talks into the night about future plans and dreams.

Hair braiding.

Wishing you could tell her the truth.

Being so damn proud of her every time she does something badass.

Comforting her when Jorah has to leave and her dragons need to be locked away.

Being the first person to know she is sailing for Westeros.

Kissing her in a moment of passion, only to realize what you had done and scurry away in fear.

Avoiding her for days, thinking she would hate you.

Being summoned to her chambers, expecting to be sent away, only for her to reveal she had the same feelings for you.

Standing by her side as the ship approaches Dragonstone

Sharing a room, where you both stay up long into the night working (before play of course)

Believing she is whats best for the world, even with her flaws

Ignoring all the red flags, because you’ve falling too deep into love and can no longer see her conquest as anything but just

Realizing too late that the woman you loved is gone, but too in love with her to act

Being best friends as well as lovers, until the very end, when Cercei captures you to taunt Dani from upon the walls, resulting in your death.

[roosetheflower]

Game of Thrones Preferences - 12

A/N: i’m backkkk and i missed you all so much, anyways here’s a preference 

What They Give You For Your Name Day

Roose Bolton-

A/N: i love this gif more than i love myself

Roose’s gift to you would be simple but very meaningful. It was an elegant silver necklace with a pendant in the shape of your own house sigil. It was sweet and gentle, a side of him that he only showed to you. The smile that lit up your face made him remember why he fell for you in the first place. The necklace was simple enough that no one would question its significance, allowing it to be a special thing shared between Roose and you.

Petyr Baelish-

Petyr went big with his gift for you. He had taken you for a walk while his gift was getting set up in your bedchamber. When you returned to your room, there was the finest dressmaker in King’s Landing and the finest jeweler in King’s Landing, waiting for you. You were to make any request of them and they would fulfill it. The gift was Petyr’s way of saying, that with him you had it all. You were so grateful and knew that he would spare no expense to show his love for you.

Jorah Mormont-

Jorah was always wanting to protect you, he knew that sometimes he would have to separate from you, and decided that a perfect gift would be an elaborate dagger that was crafted perfectly for you. He wanted you to be safe, so giving you this dagger was a perfect way to make sure you could always protect yourself. The best part of the gift was him showing you how to use it, guiding your body, bringing you closer together.

Euron Greyjoy- 

Euron’s love for you was as big as the seven kingdoms, therefore he would give you the most that he could. On the desk of your chambers in his ship, was a map of Westeros with a dagger stuck in King’s Landing. He wanted to give you the seven kingdoms and make you Queen. Euron always focused on the bigger picture, so this was his way of giving you everything he had ever wanted and gave you a major part to play in it all.

Sandor Clegane-

Sandor’s gifts to you were always simple but meaningful. When you woke up on the morning of your name day, he was waiting with a beautiful bouquet of wildflowers. The flowers were delicate but meant so much to you, as he had gone out early that morning looking for the best of the best. The greatest gift was really him, and the flowers had just been the cherry on top.

Tywin Lannister (sort of nsfw)-

In your relationship, Tywin was somewhat dominant, in every aspect. On your name day, he wanted to give something special, the chance to dominate him any way you wanted to. At first, you couldn’t believe he would actually propose something that you could do any day you wanted. However, this time felt special and you decided to take advantage of this situation, climbing right on top of him the moment you could... maybe this was something he could get used to.

[coffereadsasoiaf]

(Already too long) list of asoiaf characters the show lied about having hair

Syrio Forel

Ser Jorah Mormont

Stannis Baratheon

Tywin Lannister 

that better be it